


No one looked

by Minkey222



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Feels, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Sad Ending, Self-Harm, Steve Rogers Angst, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers-centric, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-23 16:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7470012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minkey222/pseuds/Minkey222
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...I know, I've tried..."<br/>Everyone looked to Bruce, whose look held anger.<br/>Everyone looked to Tony, whose look held only understanding.<br/>No one looked to Steve, whose look held a burning feeling of similarity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I do this? It was supposed to be a cute 'Steve is sad, cheer him up...' Nope. Only pain. Oh well. I still feel like the amount to hurt!Steve is too low. Mainly because the majority of hurt/comfort or angst is either Tony or Bucky. I just need to read some about my baby. If anyone can link me to a good story where hurt!Steve is involved I would be very happy. Also something I haven't put on any of my other stories is that I really love it when all you lovely people review or leave comments on my stories. So if you could do that, I would be even more happy.

No one looked at Steve. No one thought to look at _perfect Steve Rogers_. The words slipped from Bruce’s mouth in the heat of the moment...

“...I know, I’ve tried...”

Everyone looked to Bruce, shock written on their faces. How could this have happened? They would all ask when the whole problem blew over. When everyone was safe and the words had time to sink in and appear in their subconsciousness. When they were falling asleep and all of a sudden think ‘ _remember that time...?_ ’ When the meaning has had time to set in and they truly understand. One by one they started to act. They gave the odd kind word or check in, ‘ _Hey, Bruce, how’s your day going?’_ or _‘Hey, Bruce, what’s that machine do?’_ They look after him. They look after Bruce because he’s family. Because he matters. Because he is hurting.

Steve can’t help but feel bitter. No one looks at him.

Afterwards, everyone looked at Tony. Tony, whose face didn’t just show shock but understanding, a look of someone who knows what it’s like to want to... to... You know. Everyone looked to him as he drove a missile into a hole in the sky without warrant. Because everyone cared about him. Tony was a friend, in the end- not counting the arguments. Tony had a reason- a shit childhood, even worse parents on top. Money couldn’t buy you love. It was Steve’s fault in the end, too. If he hadn’t been so goddamn reckless...

Steve can’t help but feel like he deserves this. No one looks at him.

Afterwards, no one looks at Steve. No one thinks to look at _perfect Steve Rogers_. Steve, the man who can have no faults. Steve, the pillar of the group. People look at him and see a face representing freedom and all things _American_. No one sees the haunted eyes. No one sees the nightmares. No one sees Steve Rogers. No one _looks_. They only see Captain America.

Afterwards, when they look to him, not at him, they see his look of understanding and take it for a look of a man has lost someone to themselves. They see the look of a man who has seen too much. They do not see, however, the burning sense of similarity. The fiery feeling of _same_. They do not see a man who knows what it’s like to want closure and to find none. They do not see a man who knows what it’s like to lie awake at night and want to... to... You know?

To not feel.

Afterwards, when they think back, his face does not stick in their minds as they fill their days up with kind words for Bruce and check-ups for Tony. They don’t have time for Steve. Steve’s not wanted. Steve’s not needed. The others- They’ve had worse than him. He hears the night terrors and sees the look in their eyes. He looks at them and sees what they miss in him. Because nothing can be wrong with _perfect Steve Rogers_.

Steve understands. No one looks at him.

Maybe that’s why. Why he is here, sitting up at 2 in the morning with a loaded gun to his head because he sure as hell isn’t going to take any risks this time. He refuses to make the same mistake this time- he doesn’t want a repeat of the Valkyrie. The feeling of his lungs slowly filling up with biting cold water as he tries to claw his way out of his self-made death involuntarily. He shuts his eyes. The sting of copper on his knuckles where cuts struggle to close themselves up around the shards of glass stuck in them from the smashed mirror that was once hung on the wall. He freezes for a second, he thinks he hears a noise. Hope swells in his chest that maybe, just maybe someone will _look_ , will _see_. Nothing. There’s an ache in his chest, that settles in and crushes his lungs. He takes a deep breath in-

It’s his last, but still, no one looks.


	2. Somebody should have looked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support! You asked for it, so here it is. Don't ask why this is from Nat's POV, I dunno. I just feel like after everything that happened in the first avengers movie, Nat and Steve would get on well. IDK. Please comment, I really appreciate it. :)

“Steve?” She knocks lightly on the door that led into his own private rooms.

“’You in there?” She knocks again, slightly harder this time and upon receiving no response, she pushes open the ajar door with her empty hand. She had been trying to get ahold of Steve for the better part of the morning, trying to coax him out of bed but was unsuccessful. So, doing what she knew she had to do, she trekked up to his floor, a coffee –black like he likes it- in hand, ready to drag him down to be sociable, for the first time in days.

She takes a wary step into his bedroom and is instantly met with smashed glass. She instantly starts to panic. An intruder? Maybe, can't be certain. Maybe it just fell off? Not likely. Being careful to not step on the glass she steps over to the next open door; to the bathroom. It was also ajar and the light was spilling from the gaps. Taking gentle steps she plods over and raps her knuckles on the wood yet again.

“Steve, you there?” She asks, but there is nothing but silence.

“Okay, I’m coming in,” She takes in a deep breath, preparing herself for what she might see,

“Steve-?” She wasn’t prepared for this. She drops the mug, the ceramic smashing on the cold, hard floor beneath, coffee mingling with the awful copper liquid. She wants to scream. She can’t. She slaps a hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs as tears trickle out of her eyes.

“Steve?” Her voice is watery but she can’t find it in herself to care. Taking another couple steps towards him, she gets a better view of what happened. She falls to her knees.

_No. No, this can’t be happening._

There’s a gun, in his hand. There’s a wound, in his head. There’s a smile on his face.

She feels sick.

Quickly scrabbling for her phone she punches in the numbers and hopes and prays that they are all together. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to give the message more than once.

_-Hello?-_

“Tony,” Her voice shakes, “Is everyone still there?”

_-Uh, yeah, Nat. Is everything alright?-_ The concern is obvious in his voice and she wants to laugh. Nothing is alright.

“Tony,” She takes a breath in, “It’s Steve,” She breathes out.

_-Is he okay?-_ She allows herself a bitter laugh, he should be okay. He isn’t, though, and her laugh is drowned by tears.

_-Holy-_ There’s muffled shouting in the background.

_-Natasha, what happened?-_ He sounds almost frantic.

“Steve’s,” She chokes around the sobs caught in her throat, “Steve’s dead.”

She hears more muffled shouting down the phone.

_-What happened?!-_ Tony’s in hysterics, she can tell he’s crying because of the crack in his voice.

“He, uh,” Her voice fails her, she wets her lips, “He, uh, killed himself,” Saying it feels a lot more final.

There’s a lot more shouting. She doesn’t care to focus on it. She just sits there staring at his lifeless face, trying to imagine that this never happened. That his brains aren’t spilling out onto the equally cold and lifeless floor. He would have stayed strong for her. He would have supported them, but he’s not here anymore.

She hears the door squeak open again and hears footsteps behind her. She feels Tony’s hand on her shoulder and she turns to face him. His eyes are red and irritated, as are the rest of her friends’. She turns away from Steve completely and walks out the room, she knows she should feel bad about leaving this to the others, she knows that she should be concerned that this has shaken her up so much. It’s just- After everything with Loki and, well, Bruce. After making sure that Bruce is okay, making sure Tony was okay. They didn’t think –she didn’t think- to look after Steve. They just assumed that Steve was okay, he just kind of _got on_. She should have pushed him to talk to them, she shouldn’t have just taken his words at face value. She mentally kicked herself, she was supposed to be able to read people, she was supposed to be able to tell. Her mind slips back to his anti-social behaviour from the past few days. How long did he just sit there, with the gun in his hand, deciding whether or not he should just _get on with it_? She sinks down onto his bed, head in hand and she starts to cry again. Rough sobs tearing at her throat, choking her and making her head feel full of wool. She thinks of the _what if?_ ’s.

But none of that would have mattered if somebody had just looked.


End file.
